


Cutting Back

by Donotquestionme



Series: Futakuchi GCBC [1]
Category: The LEGO Movie (2014)
Genre: AU, Futakuchi GCBC, Gen, Lego Monsterverse AU, MonsterVerse AU, lego monsterverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2276301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donotquestionme/pseuds/Donotquestionme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the Lego MonsterVerse AU with GCBC as a male futakuchi. </p><p>Good Cop and Bad Cop try to cut their food costs by cutting back on their diet with mixed results.</p><p> Possible triggers: Panic attack, Body horror,  eating disorders</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Rude Awakening

Bad Cop woke up hungry, as he always did. He glanced at his clock. It was only 4am. He rolled over to try to go back to sleep, but  a sharp spike of pain through his head and stomach let him know that wasn't an option.

 _"Sorry."_ Good Cop whispered internally. " _I'm so sorry."_

Bad Cop groaned and sat up. He rubbed at his eyes. They'd been having to get up earlier and earlier nowadays to eat. Bad Cop knew it would do no good to tell Good Cop it wasn't his fault. He'd never believe it.

He was, they were, as far as they had been able to guess, a Futakuchi-Onna, minus the "Onna".

A male Futakuchi. Which was apparently unheard of. It was always hard to find any reliable information about monsters, outside of myth and legends, but they'd been able to gather at least a small pool of knowledge about what they assumed to be their own species.

Futakuchi-Onna (literally "Two Mouthed Woman") were traditionally portrayed as beautiful Japanese women with long black hair which hid a second mouth at the back of their head.

Good Cop and Bad Cop had almost none of these traits. Bad Cop was a gruff looking young man with short, rusty red hair, dark skin with a grey tint, pointed ears, and electric green eyes, the pupils of which were sharp and pointed like a cat. The only thing that seemed to hold true for them the second mouth part, but even that was atypical. Good Cop had eyes and small, slit nostrils as well as just a mouth, something they'd never seen in any of the research they'd done.

One other thing also rang true for them.

The appetite.

They'd lived with Ma and Pa Cop for as long as they could remember. They were only a toddler when the couple had found them under their porch so they couldn't remember anything about where they came from or even what they were. They'd had no real idea what to expect. But Ma and Pa were kind and understanding. They'd learned how to cope, how to hide their new sons' true nature from those who would not understand, and who might hurt him. In the beginning it had been easy.  A wool cap covered Good Cop's face and the tips of their pointed ears. Tinted sunglasses hid Bad Cop's unusual eyes. Eventually, Good Cop had learned to hide himself, and make himself appear as normal hair, making it even easier.  Otherwise, nothing was too out of place about them. They'd read about the ravenous hunger of Futakuchi but it had never seemed to make itself apparent. They wrote it off as a myth. The boys may as well have been human.

That is, until puberty.

It hadn't struck any of them as out of the ordinary that the boys' appetite increased as they started to mature. It was normal for all children.  However, it soon became apparent that this was not "normal".  They soon began consuming enough for three or four boys their age, and their hunger appetite was only getting larger as time passed. They were 16 now and it wasn't showing any signs of slowing down. Leftovers became a thing of the past. As did any kind of expensive foods. They bought food almost constantly and in bulk but the cupboards were still always nearly bare.

It was a constant source of guilt for the both of them, especially Good Cop. He was the one who consumed nearly all of the food for the two of them. Bad Cop _could_ eat, but only in very small amounts and even that was difficult and uncomfortable for him.  Good Cop felt like a parasite on not only Bad, but the whole family.  The income of two country cops like Ma and Pa was not high to begin with, then add on a child who ate more than the two of them combined, they simply couldn't afford it.

Bad Cop forced himself out of bed. He put on his sunglasses reflexively, even though the house was still dark. He felt naked without them. He had to stop once on the stairs, clutching at his stomach as a wave of pain tore through it.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry." Good Cop moaned aloud.

"  S' not your fault." Bad Cop hissed through clenched teeth.  Good Cop seemed unconvinced.

"I'm sorry..." his whispered again.

Bad Cop finally stumbled down the stairs and to the kitchen. He turned around so that Good Cop was facing forward and let himself relax and hand over control.

Good Cop extended their hair into long, tentacle-like tendrils, reaching in all directions like long, thin arms.  One grabbed two bowls from the cupboard while two others grabbed cereal and milk from the pantry and fridge. Bad Cop let himself be pulled around wherever Good led him. It was second nature to them to move in this way.

Good Cop had worked out a system of how to eat cereal quickly and efficiently even in the quantities he had to consume it in. Two tendrils poured cereal and milk into one bowl, while a third poured the contents on the other bowl into his mouth( They had long done away with concept of silverware in most circumstances). He'd then prepare the now empty bowl with more cereal as he ate from the one he just filled, then repeat the process as needed. He'd gotten it to the point where he had little to no pause between bowls.  He was incredibly good at multitasking, especially when it came to food. He had had to become so, really. Their body had a tendency to panic as they took their first bite of a meal, as if, they didn't eat all of it within the next minute, they would starve to death on the spot. This was especially so if they waited a while between meals. Which they almost always did.

Since Good Cop was the one to eat for them, and he had to always be hidden when they were out of the house, that meant they could not eat anytime they were away from home, including at school. It was an hour bus ride to the school, then the seven hour school day, then an hour back home. That was nearly nine hours without food. They'd tried sneaking snacks during the school day, but it had proved a fruitless endeavor as, once they started eating, it was very _very_ hard to stop. They'd once snuck a sandwich into the bathroom during their lunch hour, but it had only whetted their appetite. They'd ended up having such a severe panic attack over starving to death that they had to be sent home early.

Good Cop forced himself to stop after devouring two value-sized boxes of cereal. He felt like he could have eaten at least another box, but they'd noticed that the cupboards were being stocked less frequently and their parents' clothes were becoming threadbare. Broken things went longer and longer without being fixed and they hadn't seen their parents buy a thing for themselves in months. Money was getting tight.

Their whole body still hurt, crying out for more food, but it was bearable now and the pangs of guilt were worse than the pangs of hunger.

Bad Cop set to washing the dishes and Good Cop put away the milk and cereal. They sighed in unison. Then, Good spotted something lying on the table, half covered by yesterday's newspaper.  A letter. The red lettering on the front caught his eye. It was from the bank. There was writing along the side of the envelope  in his mother's handwriting, bits of numbers and letters that he couldn't quite decipher.

Their parents never showed them anything to do with finances, so Good Cop was curious. He carefully slid the paper within the envelope out and unfolded it. His eyes scanned the page lightly. Then what was written on it sunk it.

Bad Cop looked up from washing out the bowls when he felt a spike of panic from his brother.

"What is it?" He asked.

Good only responded with a choking noise. He reached the tendril holding the letter around to Bad Cop, who took it from him, confused. As he read what was inside, he felt his stomach flip.

$1752 . That was their grocery store bill for the month. That was how much they spent on food _per month._ That was over twenty _thousand_ dollars per year.

The bill fell from Bad Cop's hands. His legs felt wobbly beneath him. Both he and Good Cop sucked in air in gulps. They had known it was bad, but they hadn't realized just how bad it was. Good Cop started to cry.

 It couldn't continue like this. They simply couldn't afford it. They had to lessen their food intake. They _had_ to. Despite how they might feel, they couldn't really starve to death while eating enough for two people, could they?

Bad Cop's head shot up as he heard the stairs creak. He scrambled to pick up the letter, then passed it back to Good Cop, who stuffed it back into the envelope and hid it back under the newspaper just as their mother came to the bottom of the stairs.

"Son?" She called softly. "That you?"

"Yeah, Ma." Bad Cop said quickly, trying to steady his heart rate. "It's just us."

Ma stepped into the kitchen. "What on Earth are you boys doing up at this hour?" she asked, looking concerned.

"Just...came down to get something to eat." Bad Cop said.

"Oh." Ma nodded understandingly and the boys felt a pang of guilt.

Bad Cop bit his lip as he saw his mother's eyes linger for a moment on the newspaper that hid the bill.

"So, uh...there's still a few hours before school so I figured I'd just...you know, go back to bed for a bit, ok?" Bad Cop said, eager to be alone. Good Cop had hidden himself, but was still sniffling within their mind and Bad was afraid he might break down as well.

"Oh, yes of course, dear. Get some sleep." Ma said with a smile. Bad could tell she knew something was up. She was very perceptive.

Bad Cop hurried to the stairs, trying to maintain his composure.

"Son?" Ma called.

Bad Cop froze. He did not turn to face her.

"Y...yeah?" he said, dreading that he'd been figured out.

"Don't I get to say good morning to your brother as well?" she asked.

"Oh...uh..." Bad Cop stammered. He turned towards her.

 _"I can't."_ Good Cop moaned within their mind. _"I'll lose it for sure."_

"He,uh...he already fell back asleep." Bad  Cop lied quickly. He shrugged and tried his best at a smile. "You know how he is."

Bad Cop thought he saw his mother's smile waver ever so slightly.

"Alright." She said sweetly. "I'll say good morning to him when you get back up."

Bad Cop hurried up the steps, tears already starting to prick at his eyes. He climbed into bed, buried himself in the covers and, as quietly as he could muster, wept.


	2. Starvation Diet

"Are you sure you've had enough to eat?" Ma Cop asked for what must have been the hundredth time in the last week.

"Yes, Ma." Bad Cop replied, continuing to take his plate to the sink to rinse it off. "We're fine" Good Cop added.

It was a lie, of course. The boys were far from fine and even farther from full.  It had only been around five days since they'd set out to half their food intake and they were already feeling the effects of it.  The hunger pain was constant and intense, tearing at their head and stomach ceaselessly. They were plagued with dizziness and fatigue. To stop eating was now a herculean effort, but they had to manage. The bill they'd found weighed on their mind every waking moment, even more so than the hunger.

Twenty thousand dollars per year.

If they could just half that, they might be able to scrape by. Eventually their body would have to adjust to the change. It was Hell now, sure, but eventually their metabolism would have to slow down. They would force it to. And who knows? Maybe they could even force it down to a third. Something closer to a human. They'd used to survive on so little. They just had to make themselves do so again. The first week would be the worst, they were sure of it. It would get easier.

It had to.

They put their plate and silverware on the drying rack. Bad Cop glanced down at his hands. There was a faint tremor to them. He flexed his hands but it wouldn't stop. He dried them quickly.

 _"My hands are shaking."_ he thought to Good.

 _"It is cold in here."_ Good replied.

 _"It's nearly 80 degrees."_ Bad said.

 _"Is it?"_ Good Cop asked, sounding distracted. _"It feels cold."_

It did feel cold. Much colder than it had any right to feel. Autumn had only just begun and the Summer heat was still lingering strongly in the air.

Good Cop rubbed at his eyes and yawned widely. Bad Cop yawned as well.  They felt like they'd run a marathon. Just being awake was draining.

"I think we might head up to bed now." Bad Cop said, stifling another yawn.

"So early?" Pa asked. "It's barely seven thirty."

"Yeah...we...uh....um...we just..." Bad Cop stammered, his mind not seeming to be able to form a decent lie.

"We don't want to fall asleep in class again." Good cop finished for him. Though it served their purpose, that actually wasn't a lie.

"You fell asleep in class?" Ma asked, a hint of disapproval in her voice.

"Just for a second, Ma." Bad said, sheepishly.

They expected her to berate them, but not scolding came. She just gave them a worried look, lips drawn into a tight line.

"Well, get some sleep then, boys." Pa said.

Bad turned away and went up the stairs, feeling their eyes on his back.

By the time they reached the top of the stairs, they were thoroughly winded. Good Cop used his tendrils to help pull them up the last few steps. Bad Cop stumbled to the bathroom and picked up both their toothbrushes, then passed his brother's back to him. Good Cop's was blue, Bad's was red. Good Cop didn't take the toothbrush, and Bad heard his soft snoring.

"Oy." Bad said, shaking his head back and forth to wake his brother up. "Don't fall asleep yet. You still need to brush your teeth."

Good Cop yawned and blinked his eyes open reluctantly.

"They'll just fall out anyway..."he grumbled, but took the toothbrush all the same.

It was true. Good Cop's teeth were constantly falling out and replacing themselves, like a shark. He lost and replaced the whole set nearly once every two months. The myth of the tooth fairy had to be dispelled fairly early on in their life.

As he brushed, Bad Cop inspected his own teeth. They were sharp as well, though not so sharp as Good Cop's by far. They could pass as human teeth, but combined with his other strange features, it would certainly be enough to raise suspicion.  He was cautious not to show them often. He rarely smiled, and when he did it was a closed mouth smile. That suited him fine. He wasn't much for smiling to begin with, but it still bothered him.

He wished he looked human. He'd never admit that to Good. Lord knows Bad looked more human than him, but he still looked different. He hated it. Good could disguise himself. Bad couldn't. He was the reason they had to wear a wool cap every day, even in the summer. He was the reason they could never let anyone see him without his glasses. He was the reason they and his parents would always be in danger of being found out. One glimpse at his eyes, ears, or teeth could be enough to get them all arrested...or worse. The current law was not lenient on monsters, nor the humans who harbored them.

 His teeth looked even more pointed than usual in the mirror tonight. He rinsed and spit, then turned to let Good Cop do the same.  After washing his face, Bad Cop trudged to their bedroom, put his sunglasses on the nightstand, and collapsed on the bed.

Maybe tonight they'd be able to sleep, just for a few hours before the hunger pains set in too deeply. Just an hour...just a few measly minutes...

But it was not to be.

The throbbing pangs of hunger coursed through their whole body, worsening with every passing moment.  Every inch of them ached like they'd been beaten up. Nights were always the worst. As long as they kept moving, and kept themselves distracted, it was manageable. At night, there was nothing to distract them from the gut wrenching pain.

They'd barely slept at all in the past four days, less and less with each passing night. When they did manage to catch a few minutes of sleep here and there, they only dreamt of food. Of eating and eating but never feeling full. They woke up feeling worse than if they hadn't slept at all.

They bit back a cry as a sharp spike of pain shot through their stomach. Bad rolled over, curling himself in a ball.  Good Cop used his tendrils to wrap the blankets tightly around them. Why did it feel so cold? He then wrapped a few tendrils around Bad and squeezed gently in as best as he could manage of a supportive hug.

Bad Cop tossed and turned for what felt like forever. Both of them moaned softly. They tried to talk to each other to distract themselves, but all either of them could think about was food. A glance at the clock told them it was only 9:00.

 _"Oh God."_ Bad moaned silently _"I'm so hungry."_

Good chuckled humorlessly. _"I know right?"_ he thought to Bad, smirking sadly. _"I feel like I could eat a horse."_

It had been a joke, but they squirmed as they realized they really could. They really, honestly, and truly _could._ The accompanying feeling of sickness didn't help their stomach.

Every minute seemed to last an eternity. Sometime during  the night, the exhaustion won out over the pain and they managed to get an hour or two of sleep. Eventually their alarm went off.

They'd made it to day six. Somehow it didn't feel like much of an accomplishment.

Bad groaned loudly as he sat up and rubbed at his eyes. He felt glued to the bed, but managed to drag himself out. Good Cop was still trying to catch a few more winks. Bad Cop picked up his sunglasses and walked to the bathroom, hoping a splash of cold water would help him wake up.  He nearly jumped when he saw his own reflection.

His face was gaunt and drawn, looking very angular and sharp.  His cheek bones looked more defined as well. He was pale, too.  Most shocking, though, were his eyes. His pupils were normally pointed, but they hadn't been _this_ pointed, had they? They looked like thin black slits, like those of an agitated cat. He spent so little time looking at his eyes normally, could it be he just never realized before? Had his eyes always been so intimidating? Were they always so shockingly green? Were his ears longer than they had been the night before? Had his teeth always looked this sharp? Had he always looked so much like...a monster?

He rubbed at his eyes. The nights without food and sleep were getting to him, playing tricks on his eyes.  He splashed cold water on his face, dried off, shoved his aviators on, and left the bathroom without another glace at the mirror.

Bad changed into their school clothes and headed downstairs.

 As he walked down the stairs, an intoxicating smell wafted up from the kitchen, waking up Good. Bad Cop sniffed at the air like a dog, he couldn't help it. It smelled so _good._ He practically leapt down the rest of the stairs to the kitchen.

"Was _is_ that?" he asked, his voice sounding strange to his own ears, shrill and breathy. He cleared his throat and said, more normally this time "What are you making?"

Their father turned from the stove with a smile. "Good morning, son. Just making some eggs and ham. Want some?" he asked cheerfully.

The answer they wanted to give was 'yes'. Emphatically and enthusiastically yes. They wanted to eat every morsel that they could get their hands on and lick the plates clean. They wanted that more than they felt they'd ever wanted anything before.

But 'yes' was not the answer they could give. If they allowed themselves to start eating that now, there wasn't a snowball's chance in Hell they'd be able to stop at a normal amount.

"N...no...thank you." Bad Cop said, his voice sounding flat. "We...already ate something...earlier. We got up early." he couldn't seem to make his voice sound right or convincing. He was glad for his aviators, so his father couldn't see his hollow staring at the cooking eggs and meat.

He tore his eyes away. The whole room felt like it was shrinking down to the stove.

 _"We have to get out of here."_ Good urged. _"Now."_

Bad felt lightheaded, his vision fuzzed and the edges, and the floor seemed to shift under him. He wobbled, but managed to retain his balance.

"You alright, son?" Pa asked, the corners of his lips pulling down into a concerned frown.

Bad Cop clutched at their head. "We feel s-sick." he managed to say. "We need some fresh air."

Before their father could respond, Bad Cop practically bolted out the door.  Both he and Good gulped down air. They really did feel sick. They felt like they were going to pass out. Luckily, they lived in the country, far from any neighbors, so there was no one to see Good Cop's face or Bad Cop's ears even without their wool cap.

"Son?" came their mother's voice from behind them. "Are you alright?"

"Yea, Ma." Good, who was facing her, said. "Just a little sick is all." The words were strained.

She reached up and felt  his forehead for a fever. "You feel awfully cold." she noted. "Do you think you need to stay home?" she asked

" _No._ " The boys said in unison. It came out more forceful than they had intended it to, but they simply couldn't stay home around the food and that _smell._ They only had so much willpower, and it was already wearing paper thin. Bad cleared his throat. "We...have a test today. We really can't miss it. Could you grab our bag and cap from inside? We'd like to sit outside for a bit, 'till the bus comes."

"Alright, if you're sure..." Ma said, not sounding entirely convinced.  She headed back inside.

Bad slumped onto the porch bench with a long sigh.  Good gave Bad another soft hug with his tendrils, and Bad ran his fingers through the hair surrounding Good's face affectionately.

They'd get through this. Together. Tomorrow they'd have made it a full seven days. It would also be Friday. Maybe they could be just a tiny bit more lenient on themselves during the weekend. They'd allow themselves just the tiniest amount more food and they could spend all day sleeping if they needed to. They just had to get through today and tomorrow, then they'd be home free.

So they were hungry, so what? They were always hungry. They could handle being a little more, couldn't they?

But this didn't feel like being hungry.

It felt like they were dying.

Bad glanced up as Ma came back outside with their bag and hat. The wool cap was a simple, dark green hat that served its purpose of covering Bad's ears well enough, even if it was hot as all Hell in the summer. Bad took the hat and Good Cop hid himself to let Bad pull it over their head, making sure the pointed tips of his ears were completely covered. Bad took his bag from his mother, trying his best at a smile.

"Thanks." he said.

His mother said nothing back for a moment, just looked at him with sad eyes.

"You're sure you're alright, son?" she asked.

"Positive." Bad lied.

Ma drew Bad into a tight hug. The suddenness of it caught him by surprise.

"I love you, boys." Ma said. " _So_ much."

Bad cop relaxed a bit and returned the hug.

"We love you too, Ma." he said.

Good Cop reached his tendrils from underneath their cap to join the hug.

The noise of an approaching engine abruptly ended the hug. Good pulled back under the hat in a flash, just as the bus came into view.

"Ah. Gotta go!" Bad Cop said, reluctant to leave the hug, but thankful to get away from the house. He dashed onto the bus and sat in the farthest back seat, away from the other students. He gave a half hearted wave to his mother out the window as the bus rolled away from the house, then slumped into his seat. He leaned against the window, hoping to nab a few more precious minutes of sleep. Before he could doze off, however, another set of smells hit his nose. His eyes shot open.

A kid in the seat few rows up from him was munching on some kind of toaster pastry.  Another had an apple. He could smell traces of peanut butter from the front of the bus. When had his nose gotten _this_ sensitive?

Bad Cop bit his lip and his stomach growled loudly. He pulled his hat down over his eyes, angrily. It was against the rules to eat on the bus. These kids could eat any time that they wanted, and yet that had to pick the one time they weren't allowed and when Bad Cop couldn't get away from it. He curled up in the corner of the seat and forced himself to ignore it. Good Cop squirmed underneath the cap.

"Shh!" Bad cop whispered, pressing down on his hair to hide the squirming. _"Calm down."_ he thought to Good.

 _"I'm sorry. I can't help it."_  Good moaned back, trying to still himself. _"Oh Bad, I'm so hungry. I feel like we're going to die."_

 _"We're not going to die."_ Bad said. _"We can't starve to death eating as much as we do. It's not possible."_

 _"It hurts."_ Good said.

 _"I know it does."_ Bad said. _"But we can make it through this. We_ have _to."_

Good said nothing but Bad could feel his reluctant agreement. He managed to settle himself down.  Bad spent the rest of the long bus ride focusing intently on a spot on the chair in front of him and breathing through his mouth.

School wasn't much better. Bad Cop could smell the food from the cafeteria, Good could even smell it stashed away in lockers. That, mixed with the pain and growing dizziness, made just focusing on walking in a straight line was difficult. Somehow, after a few attempts, Bad managed to get their locker open and get his books, then stumble to class.

His first two or three classes passed in a haze of staring at the clock, resisting the urge to eat their erasers and, most of all, trying to stay awake.  Their forth class they sat in the back. The board seemed miles away. The whole room felt like it was spinning and a warm heaviness settled over them, like they were being filled up with warm water. Bad struggled to keep his eyes open. They darted back and forth, rolling backwards into his head until he forced them forward, but the board was out of focus. The teachers voice turned to a low, persistent buzzing. 

Everything was buzzing. There was food strewn across the tables in front of them now, but it was rotting and melting like hot wax. The walls were melting and dripping. The dripping turned dark and red and it smelled like blood.  Bad wanted to run or yell but he couldn't move. Good began to panic. They were glued to the spot as the blood  pooled around and under them.  Everyone was staring now, their eyes pitch black and boring into him. 

Good felt exposed. He _was_ exposed. Where had their hat gone?  Oh God everyone could see him. Why couldn't he hide? Why couldn't he move?

The buzzing wasn't a buzzing now, but a beating. A frantic heartbeat that drowned out all other noise or thought. Everything was pulsing along to its beat. The whole world swelling and contracting. The blood soaked through their shoes and it was red hot. It kept rising, burning their legs. They couldn't breathe. The air was thick like breathing in water. They couldn't scream. Nothing would come out. They couldn't move. They couldn't think. There was only the burning and the beating and the smell of blood.

Oh God, it smelled _good._

Something grabbed Bad Cop's shoulder forcefully and he screamed.

"Oh my God!" A voice cried.

Suddenly the world snapped into sharp focus. They were still in the classroom. There was no blood. Bad Cop realized he was still screaming. He clamped his mouth shut as fast as he could manage.  His own frantic heartbeat drummed in his ears.

He glanced around in a panic. Everyone was staring at him now. The teacher had stopped talking. A girl who sat next to him sputtered "I'm sorry! I just--you fell asleep or something and I just--"

Bad Cop felt his hair start shifting around. He clamped his hands over his head and stood up, abruptly.

"I'm g-going to be sick!"he exclaimed, and bolted to the door.

The action of standing so quickly had made his vision cut to black and his sense of balance all but abandon him. He fumbled blindly to open the door, then practically fell into the hall. As his vision started to clear, he managed to stumble to the bathroom, tripping in the doorway and falling to the floor. He kicked the door shut and scrambled on all fours to the sink area and away from the entrance. Just as he did, the shifting on the back of his head turned to thrashing. Their hat flew from their head. Good Cop's tendrils whipped around in all directions as he panicked.

"Good Cop, calm down!" Bad cried, careful not to raise his voice too loud. "It's alright. We're alright!"

"We're not alright!" Good Cop sobbed. "We're going to die. We're going to _die._ We're going to starve to death."

Bad's chest was tight. He felt like someone was standing on it. He still couldn't breathe. It was like being buried alive, trying to breathe through rock and dirt. Everything hurt. He felt like screaming it hurt so much.

"We're--we're not going to die." Bad whispered, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "We're _not._ " He wasn't sure which of them he was trying to convince at that point.

There was a knock on the door.

"Are you alright in there?" said a voice. It sounded like a teacher.

Their heart felt like it would beat out of their chest. They couldn't seem to catch their breath.

"Good Cop _please."_ Bad begged in a whisper. "They'll come in. They'll _see_ you!"

"I'm _trying!"_   Good Cop cried. Their hair was writhing like a tangle of angry snakes. It was so difficult for him to hide when he panicked like this. Especially when they were this hungry.

Another stab of pain through their gut was so intense it made Bad Cop retch, but there was nothing in their stomach to throw up. Dry heaves wracked their body for a moment, leaving them sputtering and  gasping for breath.

The door handle jiggled and Bad Cop scrambled to find their wool cap. He shoved it over his head just as the door opened. Thankfully Good Cop had managed to stop squirming and hide himself.

"Are you ok?" Their teacher asked.

Bad Cop tried to respond but just made a choking sound. His vision tunneled and gravity seemed to shift beneath him.

He was out before he hit the floor.

 


	3. Breaking Fast

The next thing Bad Cop remembered was lying on a cot in the nurse's office. Panic jolted through him for a second and his hands shot to his head. He sighed in relief at discovering his hat was still on his head. He tried to sit up, but he was hit with a wave of dizziness and tunnel vision and had to lie back down.

"Oh good, you're awake." said a voice. "You gave us all a little scare, there, kiddo."

The school nurse, Ms. Blake, stood up from her desk and walk to the cot. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Bad Cop lied, trying to sit up again. And again, he failed at doing so.

Ms. Blake gave him a look. "You don't look 'fine' to me, kid. I tried giving your parents a call already but they weren't home. Do you have another number I could reach them at?" she asked.

"No!" Bad Cop protested. "Don't call my parents." If they came to pick him up, they'd know something was wrong. There's no way they'd be able to keep up the charade. They'd undo all his and Good Cop's work. "I mean...I don't have another number for them. They're probably on patrol right now. They couldn't come pick me up anyway." he added.

"What do you want to do, then?" Ms. Blake asked. "You think you feel well enough to go back to class?"

Bad Cop clutched at his stomach. "N-not particularly." he groaned.

"You think you just need to lie here for a bit?" asked Ms. Blake.

"That would be great." Bad Cop said.

"Ok. Well, try to get a little rest. I'm right here if you need anything."

Bad Cop nodded as his eyes drifted shut.

The boys ended up spending the rest of the day in the nurses office, catching brief moments of sleep, whenever there was a long enough pause between pangs of hunger and pain.  Eventually the end of the day finally came. They had never been as happy for 3 o clock as they were today.

 Bad Cop collected their stuff from their locker and got on the bus home. If they'd thought the bus ride to school had been bad, it was nothing compared to the bus ride back.  Twice as many kids had food with them this time, it seemed. How had they never noticed before? The smell seemed overpowering. The sound of crunching and chewing seemed deafening. Bad Cop held his hands over his nose to try to block it out, but it only did so much. It took all of their will power not to grab the orange from the kid sitting across from them and swallow it in one gulp. Even the fake, plastic leather of the bus seats was starting to look appetizing.

Finally. _Finally_ they got home. After they got inside, Bad waited for the bus to drive out of sight before removing their hat.   Their parents would be home in an hour or two and they'd have dinner.  They considered having a light snack to tide them over, but thought better of it and decided to just have a glass of water.

Except...the sink was in the kitchen. Next to the fridge. Bad Cop felt like they could smell everything in it, but it must have been their imagination. Not even a dog could smell that well...right?

They opted for the upstairs bathroom sink. Bad Cop filled a small paper cup with water and took a small sip, mostly to wet his mouth. He grimaced at the taste. Whoever had said that water had no flavor was out of their mind. There were things he could drink, in small amounts anyway, but water, somewhat ironically, was not one of them. He passed the cup back to Good Cop then looked in the mirror, inspecting his reflection. It hadn't been his eyes playing tricks on him that morning. He really did look different. His cheeks were sunken in and his whole face looked sharp and angular. He opened his mouth to look at his teeth. They looked menacing. They could barely pass for human teeth now.

Good Cop noticed his brother's growing anxiety and closed his eyes to look through Bad's. They could see through each other's eyes, when they chose to. Good Cop did so often, so he could pay attention to classes in school or see what they were facing. Bad Cop did so more rarely, since he was facing forward normally. He gasped when he saw Bad's reflection. To Bad Cop, the transition had been so slow, the changes were hard to spot. Good Cop didn't look at Bad's face as often as Bad did, so the changes seemed sudden and drastic.

He barely recognized his brother.

"What...what's happening to us?" he breathed.

Bad looked down at his hands. His fingernails were long and even more pointed than usual. He'd just clipped them the night before last. "I...I don't know." he replied.

This wasn't right. How could his appearance be changing so rapidly? It didn't make any sense.

On a whim Bad Cop stepped on the scale. His heart sank.

They'd lost nearly seven pounds.

Seven pounds in six days. It wasn't possible. It wasn't possible to lose any more than one or two pounds a week, even if you stopped eating completely. They felt lightheaded. Why was this happening? This wasn't possible. It wasn't fair!

Tears pricked at both sets of their eyes.

Other people didn't have to eat so much. Other people wouldn't waste away after a few days of cutting back. Other people weren't _freaks_. _Monsters. Parasites._

"Maybe we should...should..."Good trailed off but the ending was clear.

Maybe they should stop. But they _couldn't_. They _couldn't_ go back to how they were. There just wasn't enough money. Their body would adjust. It had to. They'd _make_ it. Their stupid horrible body would just have to take what it was given. And if it killed them well then maybe...maybe...

The loud ringing of the downstairs phone shocked them out of their thoughts.

Bad cop ran down the stairs to catch it.

"Hello?" He said, then put his hand to his throat. His voice sounded wrong again. He cleared his throat. "Hello?" he said again.

"Son? Is that you?" Came their mother's voice through the phone. "It's Ma. They're keeping us late at the station today. I'm afraid we won't be home for a while so you're on your own for dinner. There's plenty to eat in the fridge so feel free to make yourself something whenever you feel like it, ok?"

"Oh." Bad Cop said, hollowly. "Yeah. No problem."

"I called home to check the messages earlier. I heard you got sick at school today." She added.

"Oh...yeah I...it was..."Bad Cop stammered.

A second voice yelled something Bad Cop couldn't quite hear on the other end of the line.

"Oop. I've gotta go, hon." Ma said quickly.  "Tell me all about it when I get home though, ok? Love you. Bye!" The call cut out and the dial tone played.

They were going to be alone for dinner. That was...fine. Better than fine. Perfect, really. With their parents at work late, Good Cop and Bad Cop could eat as little as they needed to, without their parents pressuring them to eat more.

Bad Cop opened the fridge tentatively. Their stomach lurched when he saw the food inside. It took all their willpower not just to grab the nearest items of food and start devouring them.  Their mouths watered. They'd have to choose what they ate carefully if they were going to keep their eating under control.  It had to be something they had to prepare in some way, otherwise they'd just eat all of it all at once. The time taken to cook their food in between servings would force them to slow down and control themselves, but not take so long as to send them into a panic. That was the plan anyway.

Bad spotted a carton of eggs. The memory of the eggs their father had made that morning was flung to the forefront of their mind. Bad Cop grabbed the carton. It was perfect. Scrambled eggs were quick and easy to prepare but couldn't be just eaten raw.

The boys worked quickly. Bad Cop turned the stove on and found a pan as Good Cop cracked and whisked the eggs hastily. Good poured the whisked eggs onto the hot pan and the smell nearly knocked them off their feet. A mix of pain and exhilaration shot through them.

A hiss escaped Bad Cop's throat. It was a dark and primal sounding noise.

They had to eat _right now._

With shaking hands, Bad managed to stir and flip the eggs in the pan as quickly as he could. They were still gooey when he poured them onto the plate, but they simply couldn't wait any longer. Bad Cop sat in a chair, facing away from the table and Good took a scoop of eggs off the plate with a fork. Using silverware would force them to slow down. To control themselves. He hesitated for just a moment before taking a bite.

It was like being struck by lightning.

Any thought of stopping, of control, of money or their parents or anything was instantly pushed completely out of their mind. The only thing thought left, the only feeling or idea left in their whole being, was the overwhelming command of : _More._

Good Cop took a few more frantic bites using the fork before abandoning the idea and just dumping the entire contents of the plate into his mouth. Bad had already stood and cracked another egg into pan, their whole body shaking. It felt like a current of electricity flowing through their body. A frantic desperation unlike any other mealtime panic they'd ever experienced previously.

Bad tried to cook the next batch of eggs but it just wasn't fast enough. He snapped the stove off and scraped the half cooked eggs off the pan and into Good's mouth.

It wasn't enough it wasn't fast enough it wasn't enough.

A momentary spike of revulsion at what they were doing flared up inside them for a split second as they began to eat the raw eggs straight out of the carton, Good's teeth crunching through the shells of some eggs with ease, and simply swallowing others whole, but it was immediately crushed by the overpowering _need_ to eat. To _survive_.

Their minds, always connected, but usually separate, seemed to be melded together by their singular objective. They could barely find the line between themselves. It was less like two minds inhabiting one body, each with their own areas of control, but rather simply a set of appendages dedicated wholly to feeding one ravenous maw.

They practically tore the fridge door off its hinges to open it. They ate indiscriminately. Anything they could grab, they ate, down to the condiments. They ate the fruits: stems, seeds, rinds and all. They drank every drop of milk and juice they had, then tossed the empty cartons aside. Bad Cop could breathe for the both of them, so they did not need to pause even for breath. Even frozen vegetables were no match for the strength of their jaws, which crunched through them effortlessly.

There was another flicker of disgust when they reached the raw ground beef. They devoured it in two bites, then licked clean its Styrofoam packaging, less horrified at what they were doing as at how much they _liked_ it. A feeble attempt to stop was utterly overpowered by the desperate need to continue.  This feeling was less like a hunger or a want, and more like a terror. A sheer and indescribable panic, as if death itself was but a hair's breadth from taking them.

They had stripped the fridge clean within minutes, but it still wasn't enough. Next came the cupboards. Bad Cop scoured the bottom cupboards as Good Cop did the same for the top ones. Pasta was eaten dry, as was cereal. Good Cop's teeth tore open sealed cans to get at their contents, leaving not a drop behind.  Hands and hair scrabbled through rapidly emptying cabinets, desperate to find something, anything more to eat.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't _enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this fic is a play on the word "Breakfast" not a reference to Breaking Bad.


	4. Clean Up

It was nearly eight before Ma and Pa's car pulled into the driveway of their small, country home. The sky was dark.

"The lights aren't on." Pa noted, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "The boys were home when you called, weren't they?"

Ma turned off the engine. "They were..." she said.

They wouldn't have gone out somewhere, would they? Where would they even have gone without a car? Maybe they'd just gone to bed before it got dark. Even still, they usually left the porch light on out of courtesy.

Something wasn't right.

She stepped out of the car and walked to the door of the house. It was unlocked. They must have been home. A noise she couldn't quite make out caught her attention. It was soft and muffled by the door. It sounded like...sobbing?

Ma's purse fell from her hand and she rushed into the house.

"Boys?" She called, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. The sobbing, for it was clear now what it was, came from the kitchen. She practically ran there, not even pausing to turn on a light. The light of the moon was bright enough to get around in.

Ma gasped as she entered the room.

The kitchen looked like a disaster scene.  Cartons and cans, all torn asunder, littered the floors and counters, as did wrappers and empty plastic containers, many with obvious teeth marks on them.  Some of the cabinet doors hung limply on only one hinge. One had been torn off its hinges completely. The wire racks from inside the fridge were strewn across the floor too.

Sitting on the floor in the center of the chaos were her sons. Heaving sobs wracked their whole body. Tears streamed down both their faces.

"Son..." she called softly.

Bad Cop's head shot up. His sunglasses were not on his face and his wide eyes reflected the moon's light, making them appear as glowing green orbs.  Seeing her made his face distort with pain and shame. He put his face in his hands.

" _We ate everything in the house!"_ They cried in unison. " _It's not fair!"_ they continued, still speaking as one. " _We tried so hard! We wanted to stop, to cut back."_ They shook their head. _"We didn't even make it a **week**!"_

Ma hadn't seen them talk in unison like this since they were young. They must have been truly upset.

"Oh. I _thought_ something like this might be happening..." Ma said. She knelt down next to them.

"What's going on now?" Pa asked, just coming into the room. He flipped on the light switch and the boys winced at the light.

"The boys have been starving themselves." Ma said, disapprovingly. She tried to put her arm around the boys' shoulders.

They pulled away sharply.

" _Starving ourselves?_ " They spat. " _How can you call it that?_ _Even with halving our diet we still eat more than the two of you combined!"_ They choked back another sob. " _And now **this!**_ _We're eating you out of house and home!"_

It was amazing how small and young they looked, curled up and crying like this.

"Oh boys, you're not--" Pa began, but they cut him off.

" _Don't lie to us!_ " They shrieked. " _We found the food bill! You can't afford us! You...you..."_ another sob escaped their lips. " _You should have never taken us in."_ they hissed.

"Now don't you be saying some fool nonsense like that!" Ma scolded. "Taking you boys in was the best decision your father and I ever made."  She put a hand on the side of Bad Cop's face. "You've have filled our lives with such happiness."

" _We're a burden._ " The boys sobbed.

"You're our _son."_ Ma said.

At that, the boys lost all composure. Bad buried his face in their mother's embrace. Good wrapped tendrils around her is a tight hug. The both sobbed loudly for a number of minutes. Ma stroked their hair softly.

Finally, they managed to calm down. Bad Cop sniffled and pulled back out of the embrace.

"Sorry, Ma." He said, voice hoarse from crying. "I...I guess we've made a bit of mess." He glanced around the wrecked kitchen.

"Don't fret about that, love. I'll take care of it. You get some sleep."

That seemed to only make them feel more guilty.

"But this doesn't solve anything!" Bad Cop moaned. "We know now we can't cut back enough to afford food. What are we going to do?"

"I think I may have a bit of a solution to that." Pa said. He'd been standing in the doorway for the whole scene, feeling somewhat helpless. "I'll write you up a sick note. You won't be going in to school tomorrow."

__________________________________________

The next day, Pa took Good Cop and Bad Cop hunting. He still had an old hunting rifle from his youth that was in good condition and there were plenty of woods surrounding their house, far from anyone who would see them.

The boy's were surprisingly good at it. The shooting not as much, though they weren't too shabby for their first real time handling a rifle. They were, however, _exceptional_ at tracking. They could hear, see, and smell things that Pa couldn't even begin to detect. It came utterly naturally to them.  Learning to clean and cook the meat they gathered would take a bit more work, but the boys were diligent, and quick studies.

Pa didn't mention to them how their ears twitched when they heard prey, or how their pupils grew more pointed as they picked up a trail. He didn't want them to feel like they were...unnatural. Besides, he figured they didn't really want to know.

They bought a freezer that they put in the garage that was specifically for the boys' hunting spoils that was kept full whenever possible. Things eventually settled into a rhythm. Money was still tight, but it was more manageable. The boys' hunger was still constant, but it was more bearable.  The boys' managed that freezer exclusively. No other food besides what they gathered themselves would go in it. That way they felt like they were providing for themselves, at least a little. They could eat from it whenever they needed to, provided there was enough in it, of course. It made them feel more in control of their life.  They learned as many ways to cook venison, wild turkey, and other game as one could imagine.

And, every so often, just once in a while, when no one was around, they would sneak just the _tiniest_ little sliver raw.

But that was a secret that they never shared with anyone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such ends the second longest fic I've ever written. I have a bunch of fics lined up in this series in my head. Who knows if any or all of them will ever be written. There's a reason for some of the weirder and less explained stuff that happens in this fic that I will get to in a later fic (maybe).


End file.
